


Mission:  Noel

by Velvet-Muffin (MischaBea)



Series: Mission Universe [13]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, No Smut, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischaBea/pseuds/Velvet-Muffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Author’s Note:  A Holiday themed one shot! Just as a warning, this is a future snapshot, so might be considered slightly spoilery for the Mission Universe, at least the planned middle section of it.  This would take place 6-8 months after the events in Going Under.  Brynja and Loki are still in hiding.  Feeling rather secure in their ability not to be found, they are making an attempt at having a somewhat normal life.  I'll admit it, I really enjoy writing domestic Loki.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Mission:  Noel

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: A Holiday themed one shot! Just as a warning, this is a future snapshot, so might be considered slightly spoilery for the Mission Universe, at least the planned middle section of it. This would take place 6-8 months after the events in Going Under. Brynja and Loki are still in hiding. Feeling rather secure in their ability not to be found, they are making an attempt at having a somewhat normal life. I'll admit it, I really enjoy writing domestic Loki.

I stood at the window frosted by time, several years of neglect, and surprisingly, actual frost.  The people in town had all spent the last weeks bemoaning the abnormally cold weather the county had seen that December.  Flurries danced across the hills and fields, as I watched darkness fall, the sun setting unseen behind the clouds.  It still wasn't cold enough for accumulation.  To me, this was nothing.  I'd lived most of my life in New York.  This climate was downright temperate in comparison.   _I'm dreaming of a white Christmas_ was occasionally a reality as well as a dream.  Christmas.  I hadn't even really thought about it other than noting Mrs. MacCoogan's humming of carols over the last few weeks and the bows and bells and evergreen garlands that had sprung up in town.  I didn't celebrate.  I hadn't for years.  I’d made a special effort not to.  Memories.  The worst kind: happy ones.  And Loki, well, he wasn't even from here, so we hadn't discussed it.

He was adding another log to the fireplace as I wandered back to the cozy little couch and wrapped myself in the hand-knitted throw that lay across its back.  I talked a good game about the temperance of Leitrim's clime but I'd lost the ability to regulate my body temperature months before, just as the touch of a fall chill had entered the air.  

Loki turned away from the now roaring fire,  making his way towards me on the sofa.  "With all the town talk of an impending Midgardian holiday, I'd expect your spirits to be higher, Brynja."

"My spirits are plenty high, holiday or no."  I tightened the blanket around my shoulders, waiting for the renewed heat from the hearth to make it's way into my bones.

"Would you like to do more to mark the occasion?  We've not decorated nor made any plans."

I smiled.  "I don't celebrate.  It’s a religious thing.  I don’t really go in for it.  You know that."

"Yes, but maybe we should consider it.  Traditions and all.  A tree maybe?  Or some mistletoe?" He raised a mischievous eyebrow and I laughed.

"Oh no, no, no!  No mistletoe!  Lokis and mistletoe do not go together.  Are you trying to start Ragnarok?"  I knew he'd been reading the myths of the Norse people, enjoying the parallels and differences between the stories and what his own reality had been.

"Of course not!  I'd not consider such a thing!  I'm far too busy here with all of this," he spread his arms wide, "to be bothered with coordinating an apocalypse now."  He grinned.  “Fine, no mistletoe.  How about some tea, then?”

“I’m not an invalid.  I can make my own tea.”  But I didn’t make a move to get back up.

“Of course you’re not.  But I enjoy caring for you.  And I do feel a bit responsible for your current convalescence.”

“A bit?" I laughed, “you're entirely responsible for it!  If it weren't for your incessant need for-ugh."  Just then the persistent nausea that had plagued me made itself known again.  "Fine.  Go make me tea.  Do you have any more of the blend with the ginger?”

“There should be a little left.  I’ll need to gather new ingredients.  That will be more difficult now with nothing growing.”

“You’ll just have to give up some of your quality control and order online.”

He scoffed and waved the thought away as he entered the kitchen.  I’d been so angry the day he’d decided to remodel that room from galley to gourmet.   He’d spent so much time perusing House and Garden, he’d known exactly what he wanted.  A full gourmet kitchen to dally in, recreating the delicacies he read about or the saw prepared on television.  I had assumed we’d hire a contractor to do it, not make it so with a gesture.   I just hoped no one ever stopped by and asked questions.  A major reno would have been big news in this little hinterland.  No one would have missed it.  He made it up to me with the jetted tub in the new master bath, though.

He returned with two perfectly brewed cups of tea and sat next to me.  “So, tell me of this holiday.”

I groaned.  "It's silly.  Everyone celebrating the birth of some-"

"That's not what I meant," he cut me off.  "Tell me of your past celebrations."

"Oh, well, that's much worse."  But of course, I began to tell him the stories of my Christmases past.  "As a kid, it was modest.  You know, orphanage and all, but we had a tree and sang and made each other gifts."  I smiled, wistful.  "Giving the gifts was always my favorite part.  Making things, or fixing up broken discarded stuff and making them new again to give.  As an adult though, not much to speak of.  We've always done the big office holiday party on New Years Eve.  I'm not sure why.  I'm certain there's a really good story behind it, though I don't know what it is.  Those parties were always crazy but I don't really think of them as Christmas.  Even though one year Clint did drag in a life-sized Fury cut-out and a bunch of blinking red balls so we could play “Pin the Rudolph Nose On the Director.”

Loki cocked his head in confusion but it would take hours to explain all of the weird traditions of the holiday so I went on.  He was used to me ignoring his confusion by that point and if he’d wanted a more thorough explanation, he’d have stopped me.  “Some of us that were close would exchange gifts that week but no celebration really to speak of.  Who knows if that will change this year.   From the little I've talked to Lexi the last few months, it sounds like a bunch of them have holed up in Stark Tower with Tony.  He seems like a festive guy.  I'll bet he'll make them do something crazy.  Guaranteed they're listening to something like this-" I flipped the radio on with my mind to any random station, knowing they'd all be playing something jolly.  And I was right.  Bing Crosby's Winter Wonderland.  I chuckled to myself.  "I can just see Tash with her perpetually cold feet under Clint's ass as they sit in front of the fire.  Clint complaining, 'Aww, needle!' as he pricks his finger for the thirty seventh time while they're making the popcorn garland.  I know Bruce will force them to make it because 'It's not a proper Christmas tree without a popcorn garland.'"

I caught myself grinning and stopped abruptly.  There they were.  The memories I had been trying to avoid.

"Sounds like you know about popcorn garlands from experience," Loki chided but he didn't ask me to elaborate on account of he knew I got cranky whenever I talked about Bruce.

"Yeah."  I decided to push the onus off onto him for a minute.  "What about you?  You had to have some kind of festive winter holidays."

He shrugged.  "I was never one for celebrations.  We had them, I avoided them to the best of my ability.  For the most part, I tried to quietly move through my life in Asgard with as little interaction with its denizens as possible."

"Quietly?" I scoffed.  "You're the least quiet person I've ever met!"

"Only when there is someone worthwhile to speak to."  It was his turn to grin.  I elbowed him lightly in the side, as my shows of appreciation always tended toward casually violent.  He continued, "We always had feasts in the winter for _Jólnar_ , the festival celebrating Asgard's people.  Really it was just another celebration for Odin.  Like I said, I made obligatory appearances then would beg off."

"If you didn't enjoy celebrating then. Why now?"

"This is different.  This is our," he paused as if he wasn't sure about his word choice, "family.  Our future.  We can make it what we like.  Stay right here."  He stood and went to the little credenza by the door.  Rummaging through the drawer, he pulled out a small box and brought it to me.  He began to explain, "I've had this for a while, waiting for the perfect time to present it to you."  The box was placed in my hands.  "You see, originally I had meant only to replace the chain that was broken in Paris."  He motioned to me and I slid the top off the box, revealing a jewelers’ box inside.  "I went into Tiernan's and he had another idea."

"I'm sure."  I opened the top of the clamshell and inside lay a bracelet.  My mother's little pendant, that had once hung from the chain at my neck, was attached near the center.  Along side it were several other tiny charms.  "Loki!  What have you done?"  I was shocked but pleased.

He pointed at the little baubles as he spoke, "He had me choose some things to add.  I found a few that reminded me of our past and we can add more in the future."

"Is that a sheep?"

"What better visual representation of this place than one of the 'clouds with legs' that cover the hills?  And here, a tiny replica of the large structure in Paris, with the lights at night..." He pointed out each charm and the reason for its selection.  "And this disk contains a gem that represents the month of your birth."

I smiled again.  "Yeah, that's aquamarine, my birthstone."

"And we can add anything you like.  Perhaps a disk with another month stone in a short time?"  He looked hopeful.

I held his face in my hands and lightly kissed his lips.  "Thank you.  I love it."  I stood.  "I have something for you too.  Though it's not so beautiful or well thought out as this."

I pulled a chair over to the coat closet and stepped onto it to reach the precariously perched box on the top shelf.  I didn't dare try pulling it down with my telekinesis for fear of toppling everything else in the closet.

"What are you doing?"  He ran over, grabbing me around the hips to steady me.

I pulled the box down and he lifted me gently off the chair.  "Will you chill out, please?  Holy crap!  I can climb on a chair.  What the hell?"

"Sorry.  I'm sorry.  Protective instinct!"

I handed him the box and he opened it.  I began to explain, "It's not much and you watched me make it so it's not really a surprise."

"It is a surprise!  I saw you working on it but I just assumed it was another blanket..."

"It's not fancy like the scarves you normally like but I learned a new stitch for it, the cabling there.  And it's a really nice wool silk blend.  I just happened to be in Brindle's when Mrs. Allen came in with her fresh stock of newly spun yarn from her Leicester Longhairs.  I thought the midnight blue was perfect for you.  I took all of a minty green color she had too.  Maybe another blanket."  I shrugged.

"It's splendid."  He wrapped it around his neck.  "I love it."

"See?  This is the best kind of holiday.  Quiet, sweet.  This is perfect."

"Yet you still appear so melancholy."

I sighed heavily, feeling awful that I was forcing all my old feelings on him.  "Loki, please understand, this is my bullshit.  This is a tough time for me.  It brings back a lot of memories.  The last happy Christmas I had was quickly followed by pretty much the worst time of my life.  I'm scared to enjoy it.  It's just superstition, I know.  But I'm afraid to be happy because of the severe unhappy that usually follows.  That's why I'm so reticent to enjoy any of this, why I barely acknowledge the truly wonderful things happening here.  I'm frightened of losing it all in an instant and I'm sorry for that.  I'm sure it makes it harder for you to enjoy."

"Not at all, Love.  I understand.  But a time will come when you trust this happiness.  I am content to wait for that time."  He kissed me on the tip of my nose, as he often did when I wasn’t as cheerful as he’d like me to be.  "We are safe here.  Your S.H.I.E.L.D. friends are no longer searching for us.  Everyone believes you've left their game and I've left this planet.  And I have long been able to avoid the gaze of Asgard's Watchman.  You should have no worries."

I really wanted to believe him.  But there were so many things that could go wrong.  I ran my hand over the swell of my lower abdomen in an unprecedented show of acknowledgment.  "I'm just kind of terrified, you know?"

He placed his hand over mine.  "We are several months into this.  I'm fairly certain it's viable."

"But we don't know that.  I can't see anyone to put my mind at ease because I'm some kind of mutant and you're an alien, so I just get to be worried.  I mean, what if I went and got an ultrasound and it had, like, two hearts or something?  What if I'm growing a Timelord?"  I thought about that for a moment and looked down at my expanding belly.  "It would actually be really awesome if you were a Timelord.  Be a Timelord."

"You spoke to it."  Loki's face mirrored the surprise on my own.  "I want to speak to it"

"Oh my god.  This is real, isn’t it?"  Prior to that moment, the only tacit admission of its existence had been the knitting of small blankets.  "Yeah, go ahead.  Talk to it."

He leaned down close to my abdomen.  "Uh, hello?"  He looked back up at me.  "I'm not certain what to say."

I laughed softly.  "I'm not sure it matters."

Then he was off.  Happily chattering away into my stomach for ten minutes straight about everything and nothing.

That was when I decided to trust him, to believe we'd be okay, to ignore that feeling deep down that said we wouldn't be.

 


End file.
